


Mine

by imaginary_golux



Series: Coats and Customs 'verse [17]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:21:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29192985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginary_golux/pseuds/imaginary_golux
Summary: Legolas skids to a halt outside the mine entrance, panting not so much from the run - it’s not so far from the main hall of Mizimir to the mines, after all - but from panic.'Flood' is a bad, bad word when it comes to a mine.
Relationships: Gimli (Son of Glóin)/Legolas Greenleaf
Series: Coats and Customs 'verse [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/40129
Comments: 10
Kudos: 166
Collections: February Ficlet Challenge 2021: Apocalypse No





	Mine

Legolas skids to a halt outside the mine entrance, panting not so much from the run - it’s not so far from the main hall of Mizimir to the mines, after all - but from panic. The dwobbit who came sprinting into the city to tell him that there had been a disaster had barely had the breath to describe the problem - the only word Legolas really heard was ‘flood.’

There’s a little knot of dwobbits out in front of the mine, several of them looking rather damp and bedraggled, and a taut rope leading down into the darkness. Mida, one of the full-blooded dwarves, is organizing the chaos, and Legolas keeps himself from going and shaking her and demanding answers with an immense effort. He will be no good in a mine disaster - he has no skill beneath the earth.

Another dwobbit emerges, soaked from the chest down and with an impressively bruised arm, and is swept instantly onto a stretcher and whisked away towards the houses of healing. Another. Another.

Legolas jitters, trying not to gnaw on his own nails. Where is Gimli? None of the dwobbits have said anything about him yet - none of them look more distressed than the mere fact of the flood can explain - but Gimli was surely furthest along in the mine-shaft, nearest to danger. They might not _know_.

Another dwobbit, this one wet almost up to his curly hair. And then a long, long pause, while Legolas tries not to scream with tension.

And then, finally, sopping wet from the top of his glorious flaming hair to the bottoms of his thick boots -

Gimli.

Legolas is upon him as soon as Gimli steps from the mine, dropping to his knees to embrace his beloved star. Gimli returns the hug, brawny arms tight around Legolas’s shoulders.

“Here now, _ghivashel_ ,” he murmurs. “I am well.”

“You are _soaked_ ,” Legolas replies. “And you have scared me out of a decade’s hair-growth, my star.”

Gimli kisses his forehead. “I am sorry for your worry, my _mizimel_ , but I had to ensure that all our people had gotten out safely before I could emerge.”

“Of course you did,” Legolas agrees, for Gimli could hardly do anything else and still _be_ Gimli, after all. “And now I am quite sure you will have to go and consult with Mida about all sorts of incomprehensible dwarven things.”

Gimli glances over at Mida, who shrugs and waves a hand. “No, I think Mida can handle what needs to be done today; tomorrow is soon enough to worry about pumping out the water and figuring out what went wrong. Take me home and fuss over me to your heart’s content, _khajimel_.”

“Thank you, I shall,” Legolas says, with as much dignity as he can muster, and then - because he _has_ been given permission, after all - he picks up his beloved and bears him off, to the sound of fond laughter from the dwobbits and what he suspects is a very bawdy bit of Khuzdul approval from Mida, given that Gimli blushes as red as his beautiful hair.

Legolas doesn’t really _relax_ until they’re back in their little house, and Gimli has taken off his sopping-wet clothing and allowed Legolas to check him thoroughly for injuries, drape him in warm toweling, and sit him down in front of the fire to comb out his sadly tangled hair.

“You mustn’t scare me so, my star,” Legolas murmurs as he strokes the comb slowly through the fiery locks. “I cannot lose you.”

“You shan’t,” Gimli replies, leaning back to smile up at him. “Takes more than a little water to stop a dwarf. Much better wading out of that sort of thing than being in a boat, after all.”

Legolas can’t keep from laughing as he leans down to kiss his beloved, and never mind the still-wet hair that tangles with his own.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the FFC prompt "Flood," and beta'd by my wonderful Best Beloved, Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw!


End file.
